I Think I Am Going To Die
by ThouArtPenguin
Summary: It has only been a decade since the Hunger Games have started. Molly Hooper of District 2 is chosen at the Reaping but so is a boy named Sherlock Holmes. They have to fight for survival from the other Districts. They make unpredictable friends and enemies. Who will make it? Who will die? (This is also kind of a Sherlolly just so you know ;) Enjoy and review!)
1. The Reaping

**(AN: Hello! :] Don't be too hard on me! It's my first crossover! Just a heads up, in the actual Hunger Games book, the 1st and 2nd Districts are Career Districts and have very odd names, and are pretty wealthy, but since its only the start of the Hunger Games -a decade in- AND the Sherlock characters -most of them- then the strange names, the wealth or the courage of these Districts have not yet come into the lives of these Teenagers or the Districts. Everything from the Rebellion are still being fixed. Everything happening is still quite new, and I don't wanna make it too much like the actual Hunger Games, so that's why its a different year and different people and everything. Its years before Katniss's time. Anyways, enjoy and PLEASE review so I can know if there is anything I need to work on or if you just liked it :] Also, check out my other story and let me know what you think of it. Thanks! :] I do not own any of the Sherlock characters -Obviously-)**

It's that time of year again. The tenth year of the Hunger Games. Twenty-four people will be chosen to kill. To die.

Molly Hooper, a sixteen year old girl from District 2, was starting to get very worried as the Reaping was coming up. Her name was put in forty-five times. Of course, it was not as many time's as some of her friends, and there were lots of other girls in the District. But, for some reason, Molly was suddenly very scared. More so than the last few years. Her stomach was doing flips.

"This is what we've been training for," Molly's friend, Katie Cross said with a smile on her face. It was two days before the Reaping. "Let's say your name does get called... I'll volunteer for you."

That made Molly feel a little better. Katie had been training longer, and was much better at using weapons anyway. Katie seemed ready, and was even ecstatic about it. But, on the morning of the Reaping, Molly woke up from a nightmare, sweating and panting. She dreamed that her name was called and Katie was no where to be found.

"I made this for you," Molly's mother told her, as she held up a beautiful emerald green dress. It had cupped sleeves and went to her knees. She slipped it on and stood in front of the mirror. "Give a little spin."

Molly spun once, not excited enough to spin anymore. She was too worried. Her mother braided her hair and wrapped it in a bun, the whole time trying to hide tears. Molly's sister had volunteered for the Games four years before. She had gotten injured and the boy from their same District had gone to hunt for food when Molly's sister was discovered by a boy from District 7.

It was hard for Molly to get on without her sister, but Molly could see that it was even harder for her mother. She was very kind and loving, and to lose a child must be unbearable. Her mother was also very strong, and never showed her hurt.

As Molly walked with her friends, Katie and Anna Monroe, she felt as if she could puke, or her stomach would explode out of her belly. Katie was very chatty. Almost too chatty. Molly and Anna could hardly answer her, they were so nervous.

As they stood in the crowd, the sexes seperated, a man walked up to the podium. His suit was bright yellow, he had a matching top hat, and a rose in his suit pocket, which was also yellow, and it sparkled. The seams in his attire also sparkled, his hair sparkled and when he smiled, his teeth sparkled. Tim Greenwood, was his name. A man who was very liked at the Capital and in District 2.

"Happy Hunger Games!" He announced. "It is a beautiful day, and you all look lovely. Lets start with a message from the Capitol."

A video played. A video of all the Districts, the destroyed District 13 with a man's voice speaking, and of Panem's Anthem. It was no different from every other time Molly had seen it, and for a reason she didn't know why, she hated it.

After the video ended, Tim flashed his sparkling smile and said, "Now, time for the fun to begin! May the odds be ever in your favor. Ladies first."

There was one thing Molly did not like about Tim. He was too happy about this event. Far too happy. Tim walked over to the bowl, half filled with slips of papers of girls names. Molly turned to look at Katie and Anna. Unlike Molly's nightmare, Katie was still there, to Molly's relief, and was staring at the stage, no emotion on her face.

Molly turned back to look at Tim who had already chose a piece of paper, and was behind the microphone. He opened the piece of paper, giving a dramatic pause.

"Molly Hooper."

Her breath caught in her throat. Molly turned to Katie, waiting for her to volunteer for her, just like she promised, but she just continued to stare at the stage, as if she didn't hear what was announced.

"Katie?" Molly asked in a low, strained voice. Anna looked between Katie and Molly, having been a witness to what Katie had told Molly just two days before.

Katie was frozen in fear. Molly was confused, but also understood. Katie was scared, too.

"Molly Hooper?" Tim said again, looking around at the girls.

Molly looked at Tim, trying to swallow down the lump in her throat. Someone pushed her forwards. Molly wanted to look back, but she kept her feet moving forward.

_This can't be real,_ she thought as she slowly walked to the stage. _It must be just another nightmare. Katie promised. Katie promised..._

"Come now, darling," Tim said, holding out his hand to her as she climbed the stairs of the stage. "Congratulations Miss Hooper!" He clapped. Some kids clapped with him. District 2 was much more enthusiastic about the Reapings, and the Games themselves, than most of the other Districts, besides District 1. And no one was more ecstatic about the Games than the Capitol.

"Stand here," Tim moved her by her shoulders to a spot on his left, then he walked over to the bowl with all the boy's names.

He picked out a paper from the bottom, stood behind the microphone and made another dramatic pause.

"Sherlock Holmes."

Molly did not recognize the name at first, but as soon as the boy with the black curly hair walked up to the stage, no emotion on his face, she knew exactly who he was. He did not live too far away from her, a few houses away, and he went to her school. He did not have any friends, and though Molly wanted to be his friend, she was just too shy, at least she was around him.

"Congradulations Mr. Holmes!" Tim clapped again, the same kids clapping with him. Tim turned to the crowd. "These are your Tributes! Lets give them a hand." He said, clapping again. Some of the kids who had been clapping before, no longer clapped while others joined in.

* * *

Molly did not get to visit with her mother for very long. Molly knew she needed to stay strong for her mother, so she did not shed a tear, and neither did her mother. They both knew they would cry when they were apart, and that was enough.

Molly knew her mother was hurting. She was losing another daughter, and Molly was not very confident that she would be coming back. Her mother was going to be all alone, and so was Molly.

Anna also came to see her off. "Katie would have come," Anna said, after giving Molly a hug. "But she couldn't face you. She broke down after they brought you here and she told me she tried to speak but she couldn't. She thought she was ready, and she is sorry."

Being sorry was not enough, but Molly understood Katie completely. Molly was still trying to understand why her sister volunteered all those years ago. The girl who she volunteered for was not even a friend of hers. Molly thought that it may have been because the girl was only twelve, but how could her sister even get the words out?

"Tell her... I forgive her." Molly forced herself to say. It was not that she did not forgive her, but it would take a while before she really felt like Katie was forgiven. "I am just glad she will be safe now."

There were footsteps coming down the hall. Both Molly and Anna knew it was a Peacekeeper, and they locked themselves in a hug for their last few seconds.

"Tell Katie if she really wants to make it up to me, she can take care of my mom." Molly whispered hastily. The Peacekeeper came through the door and they dragged Anna out. Molly was alone. So alone.

* * *

As Molly was sitting on a chair on the train, trying to relax, Sherlock walked in and sat across from her. She smiled at him but he just stared at her for a moment before looking down at the floor.

"Hello," Molly said, her voice almost squeeking. She was suddenly nervous again, but for a different reason.

"Hello," He mumbled back, not looking at her.

"I'm Molly."

"I know."

_Of course he knows, stupid,_ She thought. "How are you feeling?" She said, reffering to the Reaping.

"Fine," He answered. He leaned back in his chair, glancing at her before staring at the wall behind her. She thought he might say more, but he did nothing of the kind.

"Do you know who our Mentor is?" She asked after a few minutes of silence, but Sherlock did not have time to answer before a man walked in. He was wearing a black suit and used an umbrella as a cane. He looked very tired, and he sighed as he looked at the Tributes.

Molly looked towards Sherlock in surprise, but Sherlock continued to stare at the wall. Molly recognized this man. He had won the Games the same year Molly's sister had been in them. He was the third Victor of District 2 in the last decade that the Hunger Games existed. Molly had almost forgotten about him.

"I am your Mentor, Mycroft Holmes," He introduced. He was speaking to Molly, since he obviously did not have to introduce himself to his own brother.

The rumor going around the District after Mycroft had won the Games and got to live in the Victors' Village was, Sherlock and his Mother and father lived there for a while, but then Sherlock went back to the home he was raised in. No one was sure why, but the rumor was that he hated his brother. If that was true, Molly could only imagine that it was going to be hard for Sherlock to get along with his brother before the Games even started.

Mycroft walked over to Molly and held out his hand for her to shake it. "You must be Susie's sister. You look like her. It is nice to finally meet you. She talked about you all the time." Mycroft said in a sad voice. "I am so sorry."

Molly knew he was talking about the Games. He had protected her sister, only leaving to find food for them. She knew he must blame himself for leaving her, but Molly never blamed him. She wanted to tell him it was not his fault, but she knew she would break down if she did.

* * *

Tim Greenwood arrived to dinner, just as the Avoxes brought it in. The food, in Molly's opinion, was the best meal she had ever had. When she was halfway done, she noticed Sherlock barley touched his food. She wanted to say something, but instead, she continued eating. She almost wished she had said something when Sherlock just walked out as Tim was asking him about how he feels with his brother as his Mentor.

_I guess that answers his question,_ Molly thought.

* * *

That night, as Molly lay in bed, for the first time that day, she cried. She just let it all out. She thought about her Mother, Anna, Katie, her sister, a five year old boy who had told her a funny joke just a week before, and she even thought about Sherlock and wondered what was going through his mind. He was so quiet and so emotionless. After the sobs stopped, she decided that would be the last time she would cry. She would be strong, like her mother. Like her sister. She would not be afraid of dying. She would not be afraid of anything.


	2. Early Grooming

Molly woke up the next morning, feeling... better. Maybe it was because of the crying the night before. Maybe it was because she knew there would be a delicious breakfast waiting for her. It may have also been her dream. A dream which conscienceness had interrupted.

_She was back at home. It was winter. Her sister was there, and her mother. They greeted Molly with a "Merry Christmas!" as she came out of her room, still tired. She smiled and wished them a merry Christmas. Christmas was the only freedom they really got in Panem. The only original Holiday that the President would allow. The only holiday that had existed for hundreds, maybe even thousands, of years._

_Molly watched as thick snowflakes fell past the window, creating a thin layer of snow on the ground._

_"Why don't you open your presents, Molly?" Her mother asked. Molly jumped excitedly off the couch and walked quickly towards the decorated Christmas tree that Peacekeepers had brought to their house the day before Christmas Eve and would take away the next day._

_As she picked up the biggest present under the tree, she shook it, trying to guess what it was. She unwrapped it, revealing a box. As she opened the box, there was another box inside. A music box. It was light blue with painted clouds and a painted, golden sun. Molly smiled as she opened it. The song that played was her favorite lullaby. A very old song, like Christmas itself. The song was Too-Ra-Loo-Ra-Loo-Ral. An Irish lullaby. Molly did not even know what that meant, but knew it had been passed down for many, many generations. I guess she just liked old fashioned things._

Molly had awakened just as her dreams had taken here to the moment when she got to be with her father. Her father was a Peacekeeper and was away a lot, but about six months before the sixth year of the Hunger Games, the year Molly's sister was a Tribute, her father had been heading to District 6 when something malfunctioned in the hovercraft. It crashed just between Districts 5 and 6. There were hundreds of Peacekeepers aboard, but only about eighty survived. Molly's father was not one of the lucky survivors.

District 6 is in charge of transportation and when hovercraft malfunctions started happening more frequently, the Capitol was very angry, and a lot of people who were at fault were put to death.

Molly walked into the dining car for breakfast. She was greeted with smiles from Tim Greenwood and Mycroft. She did not see Sherlock.

"Good morning, darling!" Tim greeted. "We will be arriving at the Capitol very shortly. Eat up!"

"Where is Sherlock?" Molly asked as she sat down next to Tim and an empty seat.

"He will be along momentarily," Mycroft reassured her. She nodded and took a bite of pancake, smothered in maple syrup.

Halfway through breakfast, Sherlock walked in. He sat down without looking anyone in the eye and nibbled on some bacon.

"Good morning, Sherlock!" Said Tim in the same tone he had greeted Molly with. "We will be at the Capitol soon. Dig in! Work on gaining your strength."

Sherlock glared up at Tim. Molly expected him to defend himself, but he did not say a word. In fact, there seemed to be a ghost of a smile on his face. He was a skinny looking boy, but more than once, Molly had seen him help someone, like his mother, with heavy boxes or equipment. He was stronger than he looked.

She even saw him beat up a boy once, on the school grounds. A boy named Gil was bullying a little girl. Gil was a big kid who no one stood up against. No one, except Sherlock. He had stayed low, too, but after witnessing how merciless Gil was to the little girl, Sherlock had gotten impatient with Gil and stood up to him. Knocked him right on his behind. That was the last time Gil ever bullied. He even became Sherlocks pet for the next month. An unwanted pet. Molly assumed Sherlock let Gil have it, because after a while, Gil avoided Sherlock all together.

How Molly never knew his name before now was a mystery even to her. It could have been because he was a whole year older than her so he was not in any of her school classes.

"I am pleased to say that you will be meeting your stylists soon," Tim said, wiping his mouth with a hankerchief. "Just as soon as we arrive at the Capitol. Of course, since we live closer to the Capitol than some of the other Districts, it will still be a few days until you get to ride the Chariots."

_The Chariots_, Molly thought. She remembered when her sister was riding on a Chariot for her Tribute Parade. She looked beautiful. She and Mycroft were dressed as stonemasons. One of the jobs from District 2. Her sisters chestnut brown hair was pulled up in a messy bun. She was wearing an outfit that was as grey as rocks. It was sleevless, and the bottom stopped mid-thigh, and in one hand was a malot. In the other was a chisel.

Molly did not remember exactly what Mycroft looked like, except that he was definately skinnier, like his brother, and his outfit did not show his legs like her sisters, and he was carrying a pickaxe over his shoulder. She did not remember him being so... bald.

* * *

Molly was now standing in the place she, Sherlock, Mycroft and maybe Tim, would be staying in until the Games commenced. Not too long after they stepped inside, they were followed by a group of eight. A man and a woman stepped forward and introduced themselves.

The name of the man was Fordan. The woman, Hewa. Hewa was Molly's stylist. The other three stylists, Hewa's helpers, were, Jordy, Fran and Meena. She did not know why she was meeting her stylists so long before the day of the Tribute Parade, but she was about to find out.

"The Tribute Parade should commence in about three or four days," Hewa said as she led Molly through a series of halls. "If we start early, we won't have to spend the whole day getting you ready."

"What do you mean?" Molly asked. They walked through a door, appearing in a large room with white beds, curtains, all sorts of equipment meant for styling. Or, how Molly put it, _grooming._

Molly hated the fact that District 2 was like the _pet_ of the Capitol. After the Dark Days ended, District 2 was the first District to give up in their Rebelling. They did everything the Capitol told them to do and were slowly gaining in wealth. Molly's family was not one of the wealthiest, which is why Molly would have her name put in for tessera. But with how things were going, there were a couple of kids known for putting their name in, just because.

Molly lay on one of the beds after changing into... some sort of plastic sheet cover. After a few hours, she could hardly move, she was in such pain. They had waxed almost every inch of her body, except for her head and private areas.

"We will take care of that later," Meena commented at one point. Molly knew exactly what she was referring to.

Jordy and Meena helped Molly to stand, and told her she could go change. She waddled to the place where she had left her clothes. She could hardly slip her clothes on, it stung so bad.

By the time dinner was ready, Molly was still waddling. She ended up next to Sherlock who was frozen in the middle of the hall, just a few feet from the door that would lead to the front room of the place they were staying. Molly stopped next to him.

"You okay?" She asked, noticing the grimace on his face.

"Fine," He struggled to say, as if speaking was painful.

"What did they do to you?" Molly asked, knowing he was lying.

Sherlock turned his head slightly towards her. He looked her over and then said, "Same thing they did to you. How can you move?"

Molly felt the sudden urge to laugh, but pushed it back. She did not want to seem rude. But, it also seemed like a good idea. She may have to kill him anyway. That thought pushed the laughter away.

Molly grabbed his arm, but he flinched away, so she let go and gently grabbed his fingers instead.

"You made it this far," She said. "Lets just get to the dinner table, shall we?"

They both waddled, legs apart, arms outstretched, towards the dinner table. Mycroft and Tim were already there, of course, waiting.

"You guys look... stunning," Mycroft teased, seeing how ridiculous they looked as they made their way over to the table. Sherlock rolled his eyes and slipped his hand out of Molly's grasp as they sat down to eat.

The aroma of the meal was almost enough to take over Molly's senses and forget about the pain, but not quite. Molly ate slowly, moving each part of her body very carefully. She noticed that Sherlock just sat there, staring at his food, as if he almost wanted it but could not get to it. She had to hold herself back from feeding him herself.

"Someone, please, help him," Molly eventually begged when he still did not move.

"I'm fine," Sherlock quickly argued. But now, both Tim and Mycroft noticed.

"I'll make sure there's more than enough breakfast tomorrow. You should be able to move by then, brother." Mycroft smiled, and continued with his dinner.

Molly could not eat anymore, not when Sherlock couldn't. She felt too bad, and she finally just excused herself. She knew it would take a long time to change into a night-gown anyway. She thought she might as well start early.

* * *

As she lay in bed, on her back, not moving, she started to feel numb. She knew the pain of moving would soon leave, which was good, because she tossed and turned at night as she slept, and she was afraid that the pain would wake her up.

Her thoughts took her back to her mother. Molly hoped Katie was taking care of her. Her mother needed someone, and she knew Katie very well. Molly was comforted by that. That comforting thought eventually lulled her to sleep.


	3. The Tribute Parade

On the day of the Tribute Parade, Molly woke up with a huge headache. As she placed her feet on the floor, they ached. She had not went through much training or excersizing, so, feeling achy did not make sense to her. At least this was bearable compared to the pain from getting her entire body waxed. She was even starting to fear it again upon noticing her leg and arm hair starting to grow back, and, of course, she had not forgotten Meena's comment about ripping the hair from... there.

Molly could not even imagine what would be going through Sherlock's mind if they did the same to him. After that thought popped into her mind, she slapped her forehead with her palm to put the thought out of her head. She thought about other things to distract her as she got dressed, such as, how she would look as she stood on the Chariots. Would she smile and wave, or look fierce?

She planned it out in her head as she headed to the table for breakfast. It smelled delicious, as always. Tim and Mycroft were there, of course. They always waited for Molly.

No one waited for Sherlock. He was always late for breakfast. Whether he slept in, or was deliberately wasting time, Molly did not know, nor did she ask. It was none of her business what he was up to, and she would rather not become friends with him. That choice could end in disaster. She spoke with him and asked how he was doing. His answer to the latter was always "fine", but she continued to ask. Maybe he would open up one day. But the day of the Games was getting closer, and with each passing day, Sherlock seemed to close up rather than open.

She frequently had arguments with herself about Sherlock.

_I will just keep trying until he finally gives a different answer._

_But if you keep trying, then you will be making an effort to be his friend, and one of you could die anyway, and if he dies first, you'll cry._

_Yes, I know, but I may cry anyway, even if I stay far away from him. Besides, he may need a friend. I can just fake it._

_How will you do that? You know you like him._

_Shut up._

Sometimes, she even mentally slapped herself, and she was sure Sherlock had noticed. He was strange, and for some reason, that just pulled Molly in. When Sherlock finally came in for breakfast, he was actually the first one to speak. That never happened.

"No need to be nervous, Molly," He said as he placed a piece of toast on his plate. A smile flashed across his face. "It's not time to worry yet. Just the first glimpse of the other Tributes, see who we are up against. Try to relax."

She blinked in surprise, staring at him. He could tell she was nervous just by looking at her. It was not the first time he had showed how he could read someone like an open book, a book published in large print to allow him to read it from a mile away, let alone close up.

"I'm fine," Molly said. She was only half lying. She was fine until his deduction.

He smirked as he looked back at her. "Come now, Molly. It's obvious you had a hard time sleeping last night, going by the bags under your eyes, the headache, and the way your hand shakes as you eat, shows how nervous you are. The last time I saw you like this was a few days before the Reaping."

That's right. He was there that day. The day Molly talked to Katie and Anna about how worried she was about the Reaping. When Katie had said she would volunteer for Molly.

Molly almost forgot that Sherlock was also there, at the small park, sitting under a tree, writing in a book. He was far enough away that Molly was sure he did not overhear their conversation, but she had not realized until now that he had actually noticed that she and her friends were there. She never saw him look up at them, not that she stared at him the entire time, but she glanced at him multiple times and he never tore his gaze away from the pages before him.

"Though, I must ask," Sherlock said. "You were more nervous this year than the last four years. Why?"

_He noticed that, too?_ Molly Thought.

"I'm not sure," She answered truthfully. "Just a feeling."

Sherlock snickered as he rolled his eyes.

"What?" Molly demanded.

"What is it with everyone and _feelings_?" He replied in a mocking tone.

He was about to say more, when Mycroft shushed him. Molly had not noticed that Hewa and Fordan had walked in. Hewa smiled at Molly, excited for what the rest of the day would bring.

Seeing the confident smile on Hewa's face felt like a punch in the gut for Molly. Was she the only one nervous for the Tribute Parade? It was not the fact that she would be in from of thousands of people. It was the fact that this marks the first major event to occur after the Reaping. The Games just crept closer and closer.

* * *

Molly sighed in relief. Hewa had decided not to tear anymore hair from her body. Apparently, Molly looked "good enough".

"Fran, you work on finger and toe nails," Hewa ordered. "Jordy, you work on her hair, and Meena, you have makeup. I will go and fetch her outfit!"

_She seems too excited,_ Molly thought to herself. Hewa seemed serious when they first met, and now, Hewa could not hide her excitement. Molly thought that it must be because Hewa was finally at work.

Soon, Molly was standing in front of a mirror, looking at her outfit. She was not sure what she thought of it. She was supposed to be dressed as a Peacekeeper - because District 2 is the one who supplies Peacekeepers, which is how Molly's father became a Peacekeeper - But this did not look like anything a Peacekeeper would wear.

It was a one piece, white, sparkley outfit. It was tight around the torso area and covered the front of her neck. Her back left bare. The sleeve of her right arm and left leg were both short, showing off skin. The sleeve of her left arm and right leg were long and reached her wrist and ankle. It was soft on the inside and smooth on the outside.

Eventually, she was reunited with Sherlock, and they were standing on their Chariot. Sherlock was also, of course, dressed as a Peacekeeper, though, he was more modest. His outfit was fitting, just like Molly's. His shoulders and chest shown. He had never looked very masculine, but Molly had seen Sherlock's strength. She had also seen some of the other Tributes, and a few of the boys looked much stronger than Sherlock. Maybe he was not as strong as these other boys, but the good thing about how Sherlock looked was, everyone would underestimate him. Whether he could beat them in a fist fight or not, they would be surprised by his strength. She had no doubt.

"Just smile," Hewa told Molly in a calm voice. This was the first time Hewa was calm all day. "Show off that beautiful smile of yours. Make people notice you. Don't be nervous."

Molly nodded to show she was listening, but even as she took a deep breath to calm herself, the feeling did not go away. She thought she saw Sherlock cock an eyebrow at her, but she ignored him.

Molly's hands were gripping on the Chariot in front of her. The horses hooked to the Chariots started walking forward. It jerked forward a little as they started, which scared Molly, but only slightly. It was still enough that Sherlock noticed. He placed his hand on top of hers and leaned toward her ear so she could hear him as he whispered to her.

"It will be okay, Molly Hooper," His breath ran down her neck, making her slightly shiver, but at least it calmed her.

She nodded, and continued to breathe deeply. She stared ahead at the girl in front of her from District 1. Her and the boy were dressed up in jewels. That was about it. They were covered in every precious jewel you can think of. They glittered and glowed as they passed the audience of the Capitol. They were glorious.

They waved at the crowd, proud to be Tributes in the Games. Districts 1 and 2 were defined as Career Districts. They were spoiled by the Capitol. Both Districts were even known to work together in the Games. They would get rid of everyone before betraying eachother. Molly was not sure she liked the idea, but she thought it might help her live longer than if she spent the Games all alone.

She looked around at the crowd. They were standing, cheering and clapping. Molly could not understand what these people thought was so great about the games, but when their attention was on her, she could not help but smile. And then, she felt better. She no longer felt scared. In fact, she felt the total opposite of scared. It also helped that Sherlock still had not removed his hand from hers.

As the Tributes lined up side by side, Molly looked to her right. The Tributes from District 3 were looking up. Molly also looked up, just as a man walked over to the side of the balcony. Molly knew this man. After all, a dog must know the master it is serving.

"Welcome Tributes!" The President announced. President Cerberus Snow. He was not alone. A young boy was standing next to him. The Presidents arm was around his sons shoulders. The Presidents son, Coriolanus Snow, looked down at the Tributes with a sly smile. If it was possible, it seemed to Molly that there was more evil inside the young boy's heart than in his fathers.

"We welcome you to the Capitol! Enjoy your stay. Work hard."

As the President continued his speach, Molly looked to her left, over at the Tributes from District 1. The girl was staring at Molly. She was very beautiful, but there was something that did not sit right with her. Even more so with the boy who was staring intently at Sherlock. Molly realized that Sherlock was also staring at them. Molly could sense that a silent conversation was going on with the two boys. She did not like the feeling, and she did not trust those Tributes. But even as they all headed back to their stylists, Molly knew that the Tributes from District 1 were going to be part of hers and Sherlocks life during the Games. She just did not know if that was a good thing.

As Molly, Sherlock, Mycroft and Tim greenwood sat down for dinner, Tim and Mycroft chatted on, as usual. Molly wanted to ask Sherlock about what he noticed about the Tributes of District 1, but she did not have to.

"I am not sure if we can trust them," Sherlock mumbled. She thought he was speaking to himself, but as she looked up at him, he was staring at her. "The boy from District 1, he is going to want to team up during the Games. He has a plan, and I do not trust it, even when I do not know it."

Molly smiled a little. "So, um, is it possible that you don't trust them because of a _feeling_?"

Sherlock stopped chewing on his food and faced her, swallowing whatever was in his mouth. "Molly, feelings are illogical. I simply noticed how they acted before, during and after the Tribute Parade. Feelings have nothing to do with this situation."

Molly continued to smile. He spoke with conviction, but Molly still did not believe him. She let the subject go though and finished up her dinner.

* * *

"Remember, your training starts tomorrow," Mycroft reminded the Tributes as they finished dinner. "I do not want you being late. Sherlock."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, but did not say anything as he went to his room. Molly said goodnight and headed to bed.

For once, she had no thoughts of home. She was too tired to think. When she had almost fully slipped into unconscienceness, the last thought she had was remembering the feeling of Sherlocks warm, strong hand on hers as the horses pulled their Chariot. The thought lead her into a beautiful dream, one which she was sad to wake up from.

* * *

**(AN: I am sorry that this one is kind of short. I just get these random brain cramps :p haha but anyway, I try to work on my chapters as often as possible and I will keep on going until this story is finished! :) Thank you soooo much for following and favoriting this story! It means so much! :) Reviews are greatly appreciated! 3)**


	4. Training

Molly sat straight up in her bed. She was sweating and panting. She had had nightmares before, but nothing so... vivid. It felt so real.

Molly turned onto her stomach, burying her face in her pillow.

_Breathe, Molly,_ She told herself. _You are not in the Arena just yet._

She dreamed she was actually in the Games. The Arena looked exactly the same as the year when her sister was in the Games. The Arena was a huge mountain with hundred of caves. Sherlock was there. Mycroft and her sister were also there. They had all teamed up. The Tributes from District 1, the glorious, beautfiul Tributes that Molly did not trust, were also there and they had teamed up with the boy who had killed Molly's sister. It was just the seven of them in the Arena. The girl from District 1 had shot an arrow at Susie, Molly's sister, injuring her leg. Molly took care of her while Sherlock and Mycroft had gone for food. Somehow, the girl from District 1 and the boy from District 7 had found Molly and Susie. The girl attacked Molly and the boy killed Susie. Molly had re-lived the moment all over again, except this time, she was actually there with her. Molly heard the canon and out of anger, she made sure the girl from District 1 was dead.

Another canon went off, signalling the girls death, and confusingly, another canon went off just a few seconds later. Molly's heart jumped and she feared the worst. Just as the boy from District 7 attacked her, he was knocked dead and a canon for him sounded off. Mycroft had embeded an axe in the boys back. Molly stood up and looked around, asking Mycroft where Sherlock was. Mycroft frowned, and something ran down his cheek. Molly started to weep with him, but as soon as they were distracted, Mycroft fell forward, and a canon sounded. Molly was facing the boy from District 1. He was grinning from ear to ear, carrying daggers in each hand. Molly looked down at Mycroft, dead at her feet with two daggers in his back. Molly tried to move, but she could not will her body to listen to her. The boy stepped closer until he was only a few inches away.

"I am going to make sure you suffer," The boy told her. He took out a large knife, slightly bigger and sharper than his daggers, and before she could even think, she was on the ground. She heard someone screaming. It was so loud, it hurt her ears. She realized that she was the one screaming, and when she looked up at the boy, she watched as he slowly cut her into tiny pieces.

"Molly?" Molly yelped and covered her mouth. She sighed in relief when she saw that it was only Sherlock.

"Good morning," She said, trying to sound calm. But she could see in his eyes that she was not fooling him. Of course she wasn't. "How are you?"

"I did not mean to frighten you," He said.

"Oh, no. You didn't, I was just..."

Before Molly could think of an excuse, Sherlock spoke. "Molly, lying does not suit you, especially around me. I advise you to come eat breakfast. We need to be at the Training center in an hour."

Molly stared after Sherlock as he walked out of her room, softly shutting the door.

* * *

Mycroft watched as Molly and Sherlock ate their breakfast. He had been studying their actions for the past few days. To Molly, all she could see was Mycroft and Tim chatting away at every meal, but in reality, Mycroft was only pretending to listen to Tim. He was actually studying his younger brother and a good friends sister.

Mycroft saw so much of his dear friend, Susie, inside of Molly. He almost could not speak when he saw Molly on the train. Another Hooper playing in the games.

Sherlock had noticed when Mycroft frowned at Molly, and Mycroft knew that Sherlock knew why.

_I hope training does her good,_ Mycroft thought.

As Molly and Sherlock headed off to training, Mycroft pulled Sherlock aside.

"Help her," Mycroft told him. He wanted to say more, but his voice caught in his throat. That has only happened once before, when he had heard the canon that announced his friends death. He did not have to say more though. Sherlock understood, but that did not stop him from rolling his eyes as he followed Molly once again.

* * *

Molly and Sherlock were standing in the Training center, dressed in custom-made, training suits. The boy from District 1 stood right next to Molly, and when she noticed him, he smiled.

There was something different about this smile than the first time he smiled in her direction. This smile seemed almost... _nice._

Molly smiled shyly back at him and quickly turned back to listen to their instructor give the rules.

"No fighting. There will be plenty of time for that in the Arena..."

"Hey," The boy said, the same sugar-coated smile on his face. "I'm James. And you are...?"

"Molly," She replied after a moment of hesitation.

"You two listening?" The instructor called, pulling Molly's attention away from the boy. Molly glanced at Sherlock and was surprised to find that he was glaring at the boy named James.

* * *

Molly was not doing very well in her training. She was very clumsy and nervous. She had fallen off, broken, messed up, or dropped something. She sat in a corner, not wanting to train anymore. She put her face in her hands, forcing herself not to cry.

"Molly?" Molly assumed it was Sherlock, but the tone did not sound right. Molly looked up.

"James?" She whispered in surprise.

"Are you alright?" He asked. He knelt down next to her and took her hand in his.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine," She mumbled, starting to feel a bit uncomfortable. He was a bit odd. But she liked the odd ones, right?

"I thought you were doing pretty good," James patted her hand softly as he spoke. "You may have butter fingers, but you're smart. I can tell."

There was something hidden under the sweet tone he used. Something that peeked out with the last three words he had said. Something that reminded Molly of a snake. If a snake could talk, it might look like James.

"James," Said a firm but low voice, demanding to be listened to. "Get back to training."

James stood up and faced Sherlock. Molly could not see James's face. James walked away without saying a word.

"Are you alright, Molly?" Sherlock asked, holding out his hand to lift her up.

"I'm okay," She answered honestly.

They stood there for a moment, Molly staring at the ground. Sherlock analizing her.

"Follow me," He said suddenly, walking away. Molly watched him for a moment, confused, before running after him. They went to the weaponry area.

"Here," Sherlock said, handing Molly a long, wooden spear with a metal tip. "Throw this at that target."

Molly looked between the spear in her hands and the target Sherlock told her to aim for.

Molly turned to look at Sherlock. "What if I kill someone?"

"Molly, the dummy is not a real person. You are not going to kill it. It's not alive."

"Well, obviously," She said, sarcastically. "But what if it bounces off the wall, onto the ceiling and right into someones face?"

Sherlock smirked. "Even the person who has the most bad luck out of anyone else couldn't manage that. Just throw the stick."

Molly sighed and turned back towards the target. It was not the first time she had held or thrown a spear or any kind of weapon. District's 1 and 2 had special schools just for training for the Games, which is why the Career Districts have won almost every year in just the first decade of the Games.

She actually remembered the first time she held a weapon. She was only seven years old. She had no idea why she was being trained. Just that it had something to do with playing a game. She remembered very little about the very first year of the Games. She knew the Capitol was mad and just threw some kids together and made them fight to the death. At first she thought "fight to the death" was just a silly term they used, but she found out soon after that it was a literal term.

She remembered standing by her sister. Her sister was four years older than her, but her first time training also. The second year of the Hunger Games was coming up. It would be Susie's first year to enter into the Games. Molly did not expect that her sister would die in the Games four years later.

"Throw. The. Spear." Molly jumped at the sound of Sherlocks impatient voice. She must have drifted off longer than Sherlock could handle.

Molly took the spear in her right hand, holding it behind her. She aimed her shot at the dummy, took a deep breath, and threw it as hard as her hope would allow. She hoped she would hit the target, even if it doesn't embed itself inside the dummy, she hoped it would a least touch it. That would be a start.

Her hope was shrivled when she saw that she had thrown the weapon too hard, causing it to fly right over her target. She sighed in defeat.

"I'm impressed," Sherlock said. Molly turned to him, about to snap a sarcastic remark. He sounded genuine, but she thought he might have a smug look on his face. He did not. He had a surprised expression as he stared past Molly, over to where she had thrown the spear.

Sherlock continued. "Did you ignore my attempt at giving you an easy target, or were you confused?"

"What are you talking about?" Molly asked, walking over to Sherlock. She turned towards the targets when she was standing next him to see what he was seeing.

Molly was speachless when she saw that the spear was embeded inside another dummy behind her target.

"I did that?" Molly asked Sherlock, unsure that it was actually her.

She heard a low rumble come from Sherlock's chest. Did he actually laugh?

"Looks like I deduced correctly," Sherlock said.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I deduced you would be good with something you can throw."

"How?"

"I've seen your handwriting, quite recently. Its good. Elegant. I've also seen you train. You have a good arm. It was only a matter of time until you figured it out for yourself."

* * *

"How was training?" Tim asked when Molly and Sherlock came back to their room.

Molly glared at Sherlock who almost grinned.

"Don't," She told him.

"Don't what?" There was a hint of teasing in his tone, something that Mycroft noted from across the room. His brother rarely teased. His humor seemed to be leaving as he grew up. It was nice to hear it once in a while.

"What happened?" Tim asked suspiciously.

Molly walked past them to her room, embarrassed.

"To put it nicely, she tried to be a master of disguise and failed." Sherlock said loudly enough for Molly to hear as she walked away.

Molly broke into a run towards her room, her cheeks turning red. She sat on her bed, wallowing in, what she would call, despair. But after a few minutes, she laughed. She had tried to paint her face to look like a plant, but instead looked like a monster who had eaten too much salad.

Most of the Tributes had witnessed it, which made the situation worse, but one of the Tribute boys from District 5 tried to comfort her a little. He was a nice boy, with light blonde hair. Sherlock seemed to trust that boy. I guess he did not seem threatening.

* * *

Training went on for a few days. Training with the other Tributes, and with just Molly and Sherlock. Molly was getting better at climbing, throwing and fighting. Disguising herself, not so much. She gave up on that. She was hitting targets much better with spears. She could actually hit the targets she aimed for. She decided that would be what she would show to the Gamemakers. She wondered what Sherlock would show. He was good at everything. He learned it all very fast. He knew what he was doing.

She was also worried about the other Tributes and what they could do. She may have been better at throwing a spear, but other Tributes were better at other things. She was not worried about the numbers the Gamemakers would give. That was the last thing she worried about. She was worried about what these other Tributes could do to her out in the Arena.

After dinner, the night before they would show off to the Gamemakers, Molly headed to her room. Just as she was about to open the door, someone grabbed her shoulder and turned her around. It was Sherlock.

"Molly, I need to tell you something. Its imporant. You need to listen." He said quickly. He continued before she could answer. "James came up to me today. He and the woman want us to team up. I was about to refuse him, but he brought up a good point about us being able to keep most of what we need from the Cornucopia, and he will leave John and Lestrade alone."

Molly listened intently, her stomach knotting up at the thought of staying for the Blood Bath instead of running away from it.

"Lestrade?" She asked, confused. She had learned that John was the boy from District 5.

"The boy from District 4," He answered.

"Oh, you mean Greg," She had not learned his last name. Did James threaten John and Greg's lives?

"Greg? Never mind. Anyway, I need to give James our answer by the time we get in line to be interviewed. I don't trust them, but they have no reason to trust us either."

Molly took a deep breath, thinking through the pro's and con's of the situation. Sherlock was right, the District 1 Tributes could not be trusted, but there was also something about them that made Molly want to be near them. They seemed fearless and ruthless. That could be great upper hand for her and Sherlock in the Arena, at least for a while.

"I think we should make them think we trust them, at least for a while. It could help us survive. Well, it could help _me_ survive. You could survive, no problem, no matter what you do." Molly answered. Sherlock's eyebrows furrowed.

"You think I would leave you alone, with them, in the Arena? I'd rather you be alone. That is how much I don't trust them." He paused, watching her reaction. "But I like your thinking. Pretending to trust them can make us look blind to them and allow us to see everything they are planning-"

"You would stay with me?"

Sherlock stopped, perplexed by her question. "What?"

"You won't leave me in the Arena? You'll really stay with me? Won't that be..." Molly paused and then turned away from him, opening her door. "Lets talk about it tomorrow. I'm tired. Goodnight, Sherlock." She closed the door on the still confused Sherlock.

He stood there for a few minutes, running her words over and over in his mind. He gave up eventually, heading to bed. He layed in bed, walking through his mind, thinking of strategies for the Games and focusing on how he would answer Jarem Clark, the Host of the Hunger Games at the interviews in two days.

He also chose what he would show to the Gamemakers the next day. He was ready. He felt ready. He did not mind dying if he had to, and after thinking about it, he realized that if he and Molly survived, he could not kill her. He hoped she would just die by the hands of someone else. When the thought of her being killed came across his mind, he immediatly regreted thinking it. How could he hope such a thing? Just so he would not have the temptation to kill her himself? If he couldn't do it, could Molly?

* * *

**(AN: So sorry it took me so long! I was going to finish this yesterday and then I ended up stay at my sisters for the night, so it took me longer than I meant it to. Forgive me! I love you! :D Anyway I hope you enjoy this chapter and I will try to update sooner, but it might not happen. Busy, busy! :) Thank you, Paige, for the review! It made my day! :D P.S. I LOVE REVIEWS! [Hint hint])**


	5. The Scores and Chess

All the tributes were gathered in a large room, waiting to be called so they could present their talents to the Gamemakers. They would start with District 1 until they got to District 12.

As they waited, everyone was quiet, except for a bit of whispering. Molly was beginning to become uncomfortable with James's gaze from across the room.

"District One, Irene Adler," The voice over the com boomed. Molly watched as the girl from District 1, Irene, sitting next to James, stood up and walked confidantly out the door. She saw Sherlock break his gaze on James to glance at Irene. Something squeezed her insides at the look he was giving her.

Molly put her face in her hands, trying to focus on something else other than James and Sherlock. She pictured the steel spear in her hand. She imagined aiming, throwing and hitting the target.

She wasn't sure how much time passed when the voice over the com spoke again. "District One, James Moriarty."

Molly looked up to watch him leave. He continued to watch her and Sherlock until the doors closed behind him. Sherlock and Molly looked at each other.

"You ready?" He asked. Molly did not sense one bit of nervousness from him. She was next.

"I hope so," She answered, looking down at the ground. "What about you?"

"Always," He said with a confident smirk.

"District Two, Molly Hooper," The voice announced after a few minutes. Molly stood up, taking a deep breath. She looked to Sherlock for extra confidence, but he was leaning against the wall, eyes closed, ignoring everything.

Molly frowned and walked out the door as confidently as she could manage.

She searched for the spears before even batting an eye towards the Gamemakers. They were chatting, probably about the first two performances. They watched Molly as she strode towards her weapon of choice. She knew they were expecting great things from her and she hoped she could impress them, even if it just made her feel more like the Capitols pet.

She took a silver spear in her hand and focused on her target. She thought she would try for the closest target first, as a warm up.

She threw the spear. It didn't land exactly where she wanted, which was a bit of a disapointment. At least she didn't miss. Still, she could hear the laughter from the Gamemakers. She frowned.

_Just a warm up,_ she reminded herself.

She suddenly had an idea, and almost smiled. Could she do it? She quickly grabbed two spears, one in each hand. She heard a couple of _ooo_'s from the the Gamemakers. She had to do good now, and she knew that she was taking a big risk. Maybe her fantasies of hitting the center of the target with both spears were too much, but it was too late to back down now.

She arched her arms back, aiming for two seperate targets, one closer than the other. She took a deep breath, and steadied herself. Her eyebrows furrowed in consentration. She threw the spears as hard as she could. The Gamemakers gasped but Molly ignored them. The spear she threw with her left hand hit the target she aimed for, two inches away from the center. The spear from her right hand did not hit the target she aimed for, but instead, embeded itself in a dummy about the same distance as the other one, almost like the first time she threw a spear in training. She looked over at the Gamemakers stunned faces, and she walked out with a huge smile on her face.

She could not wait to see what the scores would be that night. She was pretty proud of herself, but she was more curious about what Sherlock's score might be.

She had controled her excitement until she saw Sherlock again. She wanted to tell him what had happened, how he was right all along, but he did not look so happy. He had the same emotionless mask he always wore, but Molly thought she spotted something underneath his disguise.

"Are you okay?" Molly asked, her excitement flying away.

"Fine," Came his usual retort.

While Mycroft and Tim talked, as usual, during meals, Molly and Sherlock were silent. Molly was waiting for him to speak, but he just stared at his dinner, taking the occasional bite.

"What happened today?" Molly finally asked, needing to know why Sherlock was more quiet than usual.

Sherlock slowly looked up at her, a puzzled look on his face. "Showing off to the Gamemakers, obviously-"

"I mean," Molly said. "Did something happen with James, or Irene?"

"We'll see," Sherlock mumbled.

Molly opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Mycroft filled in the silence for her.

"How do you think you did today?" He asked both of them. Molly didn't know why he bothered asking. He could probably just deduce how well they did. Maybe he did deduce it, and that's why he worded the question in such a way. _How do __you__ think you did?_

"Well, I didn't kill anyone," Molly said, attempting to joke. Tim made a sound that sounded like a genuine chuckle. Mycroft smiled politely. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Joking's not really your area, Molly," Sherlock sighed. Molly blushed, embarrassed. Sherlock stood up and walked towards his bedroom.

"Ah, Sherlock, don't be gone too long. They will announce the scores in an hour." Mycroft told him.

"Yes," Sherlock mumbled, disapearing quickly to his bedroom.

Molly looked down at her food. Was he mad? At her? Mycroft? Did he mess up in front of the Gamemakers? Of course he didn't. That wouldn't be like him. He doesn't fold under pressure. But something was definately on his mind, and she needed to find a way to break it out of him. Would he ever open up to her?

* * *

About an hour later, they were all seated in front of the television, listening to Panems Anthem. Molly and Sherlock sat next to eachother, Sherlock on a white chair, Molly on the end of the sofa. Hewa and Fordan were also there, and of course, Mycroft and Tim. They all watched as the Host of the Hunger Games, Jarem Clark, came on the screen, papers in hand, seated behind a glass table.

Jarem Clark was a very happy man, even happier than Tim, and Tim was a very happy guy. Jarem Clark was what Molly would call a _pretty_ man. He was always dressed-to-impress. He had very long hair, even longer than Molly's. Longer than Molly's mothers hair. His hair reached just below the small of his back. No one was really sure what Jarem's natural hair color was, but for this years Hunger Games, his hair was as black as midnight, and it sparkled like the stars in the night sky. It was almost as pretty as the actual midnight sky. His clothes matched his hair, and his grin mirrored an upside-down, half-moon, like he _was_ the sky. His voice was deeper than Sherlock's, which was pretty deep. It made goosebumps form on Molly's arms as he started speaking. Sherlock noticed.

"James Moriarty of District One has a score of, eleven," Jarem said, his moon-like grin never leaving his face. Molly inhaled slowly, trying not to gasp. The highest score you could recieve was twelve. Eleven almost seemed unbelievable. When Irene Adler received the same score, Molly resisted the urge to stand up and storm into her room and cry hopelessly.

"Sherlock Holmes of District Two recieved a score of," Molly held her breath. He seemed to pause for a lifetime, even though it was only a second. Maybe not even that long. "Twelve." Jarem made sure he read it right and then nodded at the camera, his grin returning. Molly's mouth split open. It was only quiet in the room for a second before everyone shouted as they congradulated Sherlock. Mycroft was the only one who seemed unsurprised by the score.

"Molly Hooper of District Two has a score of," Another very short pause that seemed like a lifetime. Molly was very hopeful. "Eleven." The shouts went up in the room again and Molly and Sherlock smiled at each other.

_There's a little bit of hope after all,_ Molly Thought.

As Jarem continued, Molly watched as Greg Lestrade got a score of nine and John Watson, a score of ten. A lot of the other, poorer District Tributes did not do so well. The Tributes from District 11 got fairly good scores. The girl whom Molly caught the name, Sally, got a score of eight, while the boy, Molly only caught the last name, Anderson, got a score of seven. Molly knew that Sherlock did not get along with them very well during training, and he scoffed as their faces popped up on the screen.

Molly memorized a couple of other names, mostly because she had seen some of them make contact with James or Irene in one way or another. One particular boy named Sebastian. Molly had seen him next to James a lot during Training, and took that as a sign that he was an ally. Sebastian Moran was from District 3 and he got a score of eleven. Molly chewed on her thumb nail, something she only did when she worried, and she was very worried about James and Irene. The fact that they may have another person on their side was not a good sign, especially when that person got a high score.

Everyone had gone to bed. Well, almost everyone. Molly and Sherlock were heading to bed. Molly opened her door and turned back to look at Sherlock, but he was not heading towards his room. Instead, he headed towards a window. Molly knew that by opening that window, it would lead to a part of the roof that slanted down just a few inches. Not very steep. It could be used as a small balcony, but you had to be careful, because there was some force-field that would electrocute you if you touched it. The purpose was to keep the Tributes that were living there from jumping off the roof and killing themselves. The shockwave would be enough to throw you back a little, but not kill you.

She watched as Sherlock climbed out the window. She debated whether to follow him or not for a minute. Her body knew before her brain, and she climbed out the window and sat down beside him, carefully staying away from the edge of the roof.

"What are we going to tell them?" Molly asked after a few moments of silence.

Sherlock was quiet for a second, sighing. And for once, it wasn't an impatient sigh. It was more... _sad._

"We could do it," He said. Molly looked over at him.

"Be on their side?" She asked.

"You told me you might need them to survive," Sherlock looked at her. She could barley make out the expression on his face. He tried to hide how tired he looked. And not like sleepy-tired. Like, bored, sick of this life, tired. "But you don't. You could make it without them. We don't need them." Sherlock stared at Molly for a while before looking forward and speaking again. "But, of course, if I refuse his offer, he will not stop hunting us down."

Molly also looked forward, thinking about what he was saying. Sure, she got an eleven, but that was only with spears. Did Sherlock really have that much faith in her? Would he stay with her in the Arena?

"Sherlock," She started. "If we agree with them, there's no telling when they will turn on us. At least if we disagreed with them, we would know what to watch out for."

Sherlock looked back at Molly. "I thought you said being with them was a good idea."

"Maybe, when it comes to food and weapons. But trusting them? That's something only an idiot would do."

Sherlock smiled. "What about doing what we discussed? Making them think we trust them whole-heartedly, but sleep with one eye open."

Molly had run this plan over and over in her head since they had talked about it before, and it seemed like the best plan they had, that would help them get far.

"But what if they make us prove it?" She asked in a soft, nervous voice.

Sherlock squinted his eyes in confusion, running through the possibilities, then nodding. "As in, make us join in the blood-bath. Kill the other Tributes mercilessly."

Molly frowned and nodded. She did not want to kill people. Sure, she has been around plenty of dead bodies, considering that her mother helped plan funerals for people from the Capitol. But to be the reason for a dead body lying on the ground, a look of terror on their face, that was a whole different situation. Molly did not want to play the Capitols Game any longer, and she had only just started playing.

"Tell him yes," Molly said. Sherlock turned his head to her, almost in shock. "He wants us to join his chess game. Lets force him into check-mate."

* * *

**(AN: I am soooo sorry I took so long! D: I was very busy and during my free time, I was having MAJOR writers block with this story! Any ideas would help :) I Especially need ideas for Mrs. Hudson, because I realized that I should have made her Molly's makeup artist instead of creating Hewa but it just did not cross my mind until now, so if you have any ideas on how to use Mrs. Hudson, I would really appreciate it! :) Also, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR FOLLOWING AND FAVORITING! You guys are the best! :D I will try harder to update more, but I can't make any promises :) If you want daily (or every other day :P) updates, follow my story "The Sherlock Diaries". I'm pretty proud of that one :) I LOVE YOU GUYS! 3)**


	6. Interview With Jarem Clark

Molly had been with Hewa and the other make-up artists all morning. She had fallen asleep more than once, only to be woken up as they waxed her entire body once again.

She had stayed up half the night on the small roof top with Sherlock and had fallen asleep on his shoulder. He had seemed very tense at first, but slowly, he relaxed. When she woke up, she was back in her bed. She couldn't recall how she got there, but just assumed Sherlock had carried her back. She blushed at the thought of Sherlock carrying her, bridal-style, back to her bed. She wished he had stayed with her. But why would he? He didn't feel the same way, and he never would. He wasn't like that. He always ignored the girls who had a crush on him, why would he be any different to Molly?

Molly stood in a small room, looking at herself in a floor-to-ceiling mirror. The dress Hewa had made for her was pretty. It was very fancy. It was a sleeveless, sky blue, poofy dress that hid her feet. The jewels around her neck and torso were mashed together to almost look like a cloud, hence the color of her dress. Two bracelets, clasped around her wrists were holding a long, clear sash that matched the color of her glittering jewels. Molly liked it, but something about it bothered her. It showed off her curves, which she liked but was not comfortable with, but most of all, it wasn't _her_. She was never one to wear such apparel, and she almost felt like she was betraying herself.

_You're only going to wear it this one time,_ she told herself. _There's no harm in wearing it. Its very pretty, and looks good on you. Don't just wear the gown! _Be_ the gown, Molly._

"You look remarkable!" Hewa exclamed, her eyes wide.

Molly turned to Hewa with a smile. "You really think so?" She asked shyly. Her pep-talk to herself did not do much for her self-esteem, but getting compliments from other people seemed to help just a little bit.

"Of course, dear! Don't be nervous. You are going to be the most beautiful Tribute out there!"

Molly held back a frown. Hewa only saw her as an object to dress up in pretty clothes, like a doll. Molly was just Hewa's doll. Despite all the rare moments when Hewa treated Molly as a sort of friend, it would never change Hewa's mind about everything just being part of the game. But Molly didn't blame her. Hewa was born in the Capitol. Born to love the Hunger Games. Born to not flinch away from one child killing another.

"Ready?" Hewa asked, ushering Molly out the door and into a long hall.

Molly's stomach flipped when she saw James and Irene standing at the end of the hall, whispering to each other. Molly slowly slipped beside James, who looked at her on the side of his eye, a crooked smile appearing on his face. Molly was afraid he was going to speak to her, but she saw him turn his head the other way. Something bumped her shoulder, and she turned the other way to see Sherlock behind her. Her stomach flipped again, but for another reason.

The other Tributes started flooding into the hall. Molly made eye contact with a couple of them, John, Greg, and smiled at them in greeting. She accidentally made eye contact with Sebastian from District 3. He smirked at her and she quickly turned away. She stared at the wall so that she would not make eye contact with anyone else. She didn't trust most of them.

"Molly," Sherlock whispered in her ear and nudged her elbow. Molly felt chills run down her spine. She remembered the last time he had whispered in her ear. The results were the same, and she didn't look at him, fearing he would see how red her face was.

She looked down at his hand, half-open in front of her. The small, metallic object glowed in the faint light.

"Mycroft gave it to me for 'good luck'," He continued. "I think you would appreciate it more than I do."

Molly clasped her hand around the object and his hand disappeared. She held it out, grabbing the thin chain between her thumbs and index fingers. She smiled as she lifted up the necklace. The silver chain was very simple, as was the small, round pearl. Molly didn't understand why Mycroft would have given such a girly piece of jewelry to Sherlock.

Molly turned to look at Sherlock, hoping her face was back to being pale. "Why did Mycroft give this to you?"

"I told you. For 'luck'." He said quickly.

"That's it? No other explanation?"

"Is there something wrong with it?" Sherlock asked.

"No, its lovely," Molly glanced at the necklace in her palm before looking back up at Sherlock. "That's why I was wondering why he would have given it to you."

"I don't understand." Sherlock said quickly, and turned away. Molly looked at him, puzzled. Why was he acting so strange? When didn't he? Still, there was something different with his demeanor.

A sudden rumble of applause and cheering rang in Molly's ears and she looked around, trying to figure out where it was coming from. Then, she remembered why she was there in the first place. She was going to be interviewed by Jarem Clark in front of all of Panem.

"Welcome, welcome!" Jarem's voice boomed through the speakers. Molly looked up at the television. Jarem Clark looked exactly the same as he did when he announced the scores just the night before. The only difference was, his half-moon smile seemed bigger and brighter. Molly wondered if it looked more charming in person than on a screen. I guess she would find out soon enough.

"Quiet down, please! Quiet down!" He said, patiently. The wild crowd calmed slowly down. "Are you ready to meet your Tributes?" More thundering applause. Jarem laughed joyfully. "Careful! Lets not frighten them!" The crowd laughed. "Lets bring out our first Tribute! From District 1, the girl who we all remember was literally glowing and sparkling," Small chuckle from the crowd. "Irene Adler!"

Molly looked away from the television, and rested her eyes on Irene. Irene was starting to walk out on stage. She was looking past Molly, right at Sherlock. When she disappeared and the crowd went wild, Molly looked back up at the screen. Irene looked magnificent, as always. It didn't matter what she wore, but this gown was simply (not so simple looking) gorgeous. Molly instantly felt jealous.

Irene wore a fitted, silver, sparkling dress that went down to her feet. The skirt area was cut on each side to reveal her legs. Her right arm and shoulder were bare, while her left arm and shoulder were covered. Her hair was pinned to the side of her head, curled down, twisting at the end.

Molly had never seen anyone as confident as Irene, and maybe that was why Molly was jealous. Irene's confidence and beauty had captured the attention of Sherlock Holmes, while Molly had to make an effort to get his attention.

After a few minutes, Irene walked off stage, and Jarem introduced James to the audience. It was amazing how sweet James seemed with everyone. He wore a charming smile that could get anyone to like him, but Molly knew the truth. Only, she was starting to doubt herself. Could James really be that bad when he is being so... nice?

"Tell me," Jarem said to James. "Do you miss your family?"

James's charming smile turned into more of a sad smile. "Very much." He said, nodding his head. "Family is the most important thing, Jarem. That is why I volunteered. If I win, than my family has the best they could have, and if I lose," Molly thought she saw him smirk. "I trust the capitol will take care of them." The audiance _aw_'d.

Molly no longer doubted herself. James was completely full of it. He planned on winning, no matter the cost, and he was obviously just sucking up to the Capitol. Even if he truly believed everything he said, he was only saying it to gain the love of the people.

James walked off the stage. A few members of the audience were in tears.

"Next, from District 2, Molly Hooper!" Molly stopped breathing and her heart pounded. She stood in one spot for a second too long.

"Molly," Sherlock whispered, nudging her. Molly shook her head, bringing herself back to reality. She glanced at Sherlock with a nervous smile before going on stage.

"Ah, there she is!" Jarem chuckled. Molly smiled shyly and looked at the audience. Everyone clapped and cheered... for her. She knew why she was there, and she even remembered the little bit of applause from the kids back in her District when she was chosen, and even though this applause signified the same thing, she felt good about it, even though she knew she shouldn't have.

Jarem took Molly's hand and led her over to a chair next to him.

"My dear Molly," He greeted, his upside down, half-moon smile really was more charming up close. "How are you?" He asked genuinely.

"Pretty good," Molly answered truthfully. She felt comfortable in Jarem's presence, and even with all the people staring at her, she felt good. "And you?"

Jarem was happily surprised by the question. "I am doing well, thank you." He motioned his arms towards her as he looked at the audience. "What a nice girl!" He paused only for a moment. "So, Molly, you are already pretty close to the Capitol, but is there anything different that you think is better or worse compared to your District?"

What a good question. "The food is definitely better," She earned a little chuckle from Jarem and the audience. "Worse? Uhm, I'd say..." Molly knew her answer, but she also knew better than to say what it was. Instead, she came up with a small lie that wasn't totally true, but it wasn't totally false either. "The beds."

"The beds?" Jarem asked, surprised. He chuckled a bit. "What's wrong with the beds?"

"Not soft enough," She said. Normally, she was not very good at lying, but I guess when you really wanted to protect yourself, it had to be done. "In fact, I woke up this morning with a back ache."

"You know, actually, since you said something, I wake up every morning with a strained neck and-"

"Well, you are older." Molly couldn't believe herself. She had never been so _not_ shy in her life, and here she was, joking around with Jarem Clark, a man of great importance. She was relieved when Jarem and the audience laughed.

"And while that is true, I was wondering if you could... possibly..." Jarem had a playful smile on his face as he twisted in his chair, turning his back on her. It was now Molly's turn to laugh with the audience.

"You want a massage?" She went for it, rubbing his shoulders and neck. She should have felt weird, but as the audience practically died of laughter, it just felt like a little comedy skit, which was exactly what it was. Molly could just imagine Sherlock rolling his eyes, but hopefully, he was laughing a little bit, too.

Jarem stretched his muscles as Molly placed her hands back in her own lap. She was still laughing. She felt happy for once.

"You are a wonder, Molly Hooper!" Jarem exclaimed as he acted like it was a miracle that he could move again. He gave it a few seconds before making his face serious, and Molly's happiness deteriorated.

"Molly, you looked a little out of your comfort zone when your name was called," His voice was not accusing, but understanding. "What went through your mind as you walked up to that stage?"

_I couldn't believe Katie didn't keep her promise. I couldn't believe that I had expected her to do so. I couldn't believe I was leaving my mother to most likely become motherless. I couldn't believe._

"I couldn't really believe it was happening," Molly answered truthfully, trying to make sure her voice wouldn't break. "I think it was just scary leaving my mother."

Jarem nodded, understanding. The audience made noises of sympathy. "You know, I remember your sister." Jarem said. Molly looked at him, listening intently. She didn't remember much about that year, mostly because she didn't want to, but hearing about her sister made her feel better. "I had asked her the same question, and she answered almost the same way. She thought it was scary leaving you and your mother." Jarem spoke to Molly as if no one was watching, like Molly was his close friend. "I could tell she was a strong young woman, and when I saw you walk up that stage and this stage, and when I saw you on that chariot, I saw the strength in you, and I wish you good luck." Jarem took Molly's hand and kissed it. He was so genuine that Molly wanted to cry.

Jarem and Molly stood up. "Molly Hooper, everyone!" Jarem said to the audience. They all cheered and applauded and Molly walked off the stage.

Mycroft, Tim, Hewa and Fordan greeted Molly as she joined them. But Molly hardly heard anything they were saying, mostly because her eyes focused on a television screen behind them. Molly pushed passed them so she could listen and the others joined her.

Sherlock had walked on stage and was shaking hands with Jarem. Sherlock was actually _smiling_. He looked nice when he smiled and the corners of Molly's mouth turned up at the sight.

Sherlock and Jarem talked and even _joked_. Molly couldn't believe some of the humorous things coming out of Sherlock's mouth. He was always so serious, and now that he was being the opposite of serious, it was almost like he was speaking a foreign language.

"I also wanted to ask you what it is like to have your elder brother as your mentor?" Said Jarem. Molly almost gasped. She could tell how hard Sherlock was trying not to rolls his eyes, and it was even harder for him to keep the smile on his face.

"Its... manageable." Molly released the gasp in the form of a relieved sigh. _Good enough,_ Molly thought. She thought she heard Mycroft laugh a little.

Jarem chuckled too, and patted Sherlock lightly on the knee. "Now, of course, we can't just let you walk off this stage without talking about that score of yours. A twelve! Very, very impressive! Unheard of. In fact, there's a rumor going around that if District 13 was still functioning, then the highest score would be thirteen, and you still would have gotten the highest score. Now, obviously, the performances from the last training session are secret, but, any chance you can give us a little hint...?"

Sherlock smirked. It didn't take him more than one second to come up with the seemingly perfect answer. "You know, Jarem, the only reason I climbed so high on the score panel is because I'm strong enough to hide my skills. I've got a stout personality, and that's all that really matters."

Molly was sure she was missing his meaning. Mycroft knew right away what Sherlock was getting at, and so did Fordan, but at least Hewa seemed as clueless as Molly. Jarem seemed a bit puzzled, but if he didn't understand it, he was good at hiding it. He laughed and patted Sherlock on the knee again before allowing Sherlock to exit the stage. The crowd went wild. Maybe they understood Sherlock too, but by their faces and whispers, maybe not. Maybe the hair dye went to their brains, and they couldn't think straight. But then, what was Molly's excuse?

Sherlock met with Molly, Mycroft and the others and Mycroft patted him on the back, and surprisingly, Sherlock didn't seem annoyed by it. Maybe it was because it was a form of communicating, and because it was silent, Sherlock welcomed it.

"The crowd loved you!" Hewa exclamed.

"So did Jarem," Fordan said.

"Obviously," Said normal, non-smiling Sherlock. Even though Molly liked his smile and his jokes while he was on stage, she knew it was just an act, for the most part. She wouldn't be surprised if he quite enjoyed the attention. But, she also liked having him as _himself_. Serious, intelligent, observational, mysterious, Sherlock. Molly liked that in him, and she hoped he never changed.

* * *

**Sorry it took SO LONG! D: I have been waaaaay busy, and have not had a lot of time to write. :/ But, I tried to make this one long. I hope its long enough! :) Thank you for sticking with me! Thank you, wonderful readers, followers and reviewers :) I love you!**

**PS. Can you guess what Sherlock did for the Gamemakers?! :D I'm sure its quite obvious, but I honestly am the farthest from clever, like Sherlock. Obviously, he could come up with something better, but I'm writing, so hopefully he doesn't seem too OOC! XD I'm trying! Really!**


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